Upon a Memory and a Sword
by Sassiersphinx81
Summary: AC/Devil May Cry/Avengers Crossover. Desmond wanted normal. That went south when Fury walked into Bad Weather with a proposal. Help find the Infinity Stones, mainly time, and be forever forgotten by all. The problem. It's lost in a memory that he can't access. Dante wants normal, but is pulled into a fight that he never wanted a part of, but has no choice.
1. Chapter 1

_June 14__th__, 2002_

The morning sun began to rise in the east as sixteen year old Desmond Miles leaned up against a large oak, slowing his breathing from the dangerous trek through the mountains. It had been a long night. One that he thought would have never come. The planning, the secretly marking of the paths. It was all in preparation for the day that he was now in. The day he would be free. Free from all the mumbo jumbo his father had tried to implant into his brain since he was old enough to understand words. Free to be what he wanted to be and free to do what he wanted.

Sliding down the trunk, the bark biting into the back of his shirt, and then, for reasons unknown to him, Desmond began to laugh. He didn't know what brought on the euphoria that he was feeling, and no words could explain, but it could only be classified as happy and free. Freedom was something that he had never experienced before. Never being off the Farm, or out of the woods. Lights could be seen in the distance, and for the first time in sixteen years, he had a choice.

Once back on solid feet, and the bag of provisions on his back, Desmond began to make the trek once more out of the woods, following the river until he saw a paved road.

_March 30th, 2012_

"I told you once before, Nick, I don't have the right genes. I can't access the memories that you need to find." William Miles threw his legs over the edge of the chair, letting his head drop into his hands. "And Altair is my wife's ancestor, not mine. I couldn't access it even if I wanted to."

Nick Fury growled in annoyance. They were running out of time, and ironically, they were looking for the Time Stone, one of five stones being hunted out by Hydra, and Thanos. So turning to his long-time friend, he asked. "So who can search them for us? You have to know someone. A relative of hers, preferably a male. Females can't step into male ancestors memories most of the time."

William got to his feet, and there was an audible crack that filled the room from where the older assassin popped his back. "I only know of one, and that would be my son, Desmond."

Fury's one eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed quickly. "And when were you going to tell anyone that you had a son? We could have been done by now.

The assassin met the agent's glare with one of his own. "I didn't tell anyone because I can't find him!" That knocked Fury back a step. "Desmond ran away almost ten years ago. No one has heard from him since. There's been reports of him being spotted in various cities all over the States, but every time I go and investigate, the boy vanishes once more. Different name, different look, different job. He never does the same thing twice, and never stays somewhere more than a few months to a year at most.

"I tracked him one time to Florida where I missed picking up his trail by three days." William turned and looked out over the Potomac River. "Three days! And I missed him. That was nearly two years ago. A few reports have trickled in from time to time about spotting him in Boston, Niagara Falls, and as far away as Texas, but nothing in the last few months. Either he went completely underground, or he was killed somewhere." That was the worst pain of all. Not knowing what was going on with his son.

Stepping next to his friend, Fury sighed. "Look, I'll run a scan through the system, see if anything pops up, but I will need everything you have from him. An old photo, fingerprints, anything that could possibly generate a lead."

Nodding his head, William kept his eyes on the calming waters below. "I'll see what I can dig up."

_September 1__st__, 2012 10:49 AM_

The sounds of the city woke Desmond from a dream. He was back at the Farm, and daily life was the way he once remembered. People milling about, a few practicing basic skills. It was all the same, but what caused his steps to falter was the sight of his mother. She stood in a small clearing, light brown eyes to the sky. Desmond favored his mother in many ways. From the color of their eyes, to the slight wave in their hair.

But she stood there, unmoving for what felt like hours, but in reality it had only been a few minutes, and she just looked on. As if all the answers to life's mysteries lay in those white clouds. His father wasn't around, and that wasn't anything uncommon. William had always been in and out when he was younger. Not staying more than a handful of days at a time, then he was gone once more, leaving his 'training' to one of the other men that lived on the Farm.

Sitting up in the small bed he currently owned, the young man ran a hand down his face. He could still see his mother's face when he closed his eyes. The look that was there as she looked towards the heavens. Could she be thinking about him? William? There was no way of knowing, and yes at times, he wondered if she missed him, but there was not a chance in hell he was going back to that… that prison. Out in the real world, he was free to choose what he wanted to do. Free to be who he wanted to be. It was something that Desmond had always wanted, and for almost ten years, was what he was living. Paycheck to paycheck, but it was his life. His way.

So, taking himself from the bed, Desmond grabbed his clothes for the day, laying them out, and climbed into a hot shower.

_September 1__st__, 2012 5:02 PM_

"Target has been spotted." A lone figure watched from a distance away as his target, a one Desmond Miles, walked from the shabby apartment complex just inside the Bronx. Not the most savory neighborhood, but the kid had been on the lamb for years now.

'Do not lose him, no matter what. I heard reports that they're looking for him too. No sense spooking him just yet.' Fury spoke into his head from the earpiece. 'I have been hunting for him for a few months now.'

"You know, for a kid who was supposed to be hiding from the world, he was sure dumb in getting a driver's license." The man shook his head in wonder as to what was going on in the kid's head to do something as stupid as what he was found for.

'Hey, don't ask me, but I'm honestly glad he did because I doubt anyone would have found him another way.' Sighing, he knew Fury was frustrated. Too much was riding on finding Desmond Miles and finding out what lay in his head. 'Keep a tail on him until I can get there. I mean it, Hawkeye, don't lose that kid.'

And the connection went silent before Hawkeye had a chance to retort. Why he got picked for babysitting duty was beyond him, but it was a mission, and that was one thing he tried not to do. Screw up a mission. So, he sat on the rooftop, sweat making tracks down the sides of his face, collecting in the collar of his shirt. It wasn't the most glamorous job, sure, but it beat what he was supposed to be doing. It was either watch Miles, or stakeout a warehouse with ties to a company known to have dealings with Hydra. Natasha chose the warehouse, and passed this off on him.

Looking through the binoculars, he watched the kid turn the corner, and down the street towards the bar he worked at, get this, for the past seven months. The bad thing was, he had been there a few times in his off time, which wasn't much nowadays.

From his vantage point, he could watch the whole street and not miss a single thing. It was rather boring, and frankly, he would have rather been anywhere but there. But this was an assignment and that's what he was told to do. So sucking it up, Hawkeye crouched low on the roof, watching his target enter the bar.

"He's in the bar." And grabbing the bag at his feet, the archer walked over to the fire escape, and climbed down to street level.

_9:47 PM_

Fury watched from the corner table as the kid, Desmond, finished mixing a drink, then wiped down bar once he was finished. Not that he had spilled any, but he kept his hands busy. His father, William, had the same trait, and Fury chalked it up to the assassin training, or whatever they put themselves through. The routine that the Brotherhood did was not widely known, but they were helpful, when it suited their own purpose. Now that his and their needs aligned, it was easier to get some much needed info from the elusive assassins.

Once the patrons had abandoned the bar, the director saw an opening he needed. So picking up his empty glass, Fury made his way to the bar, and took a seat. The kid walked over, face showing only a slight smile. "What can I get you?" Desmond asked him.

"Scotch on the rocks." Fury answered and watched him work. Quickly the drink was sat in front of him, and a bill was slipped onto bar top.

"Anything else for you?" He asked, and Fury smirked.

"Yeah, I do." That got a brow raised. "Your help. Desmond." His hand stilled on the bar top, brown eyes widened a bit. "Yes, I know who you are, and what you are."

"You have me confused with someone else. I'm just a bartender." Desmond finally looked at him, face neutral, but from years of reading people, Fury knew the boy was rocked to the core, and debating on running.

Shaking his head, the director shook his head, and took a sip from his glass. "I know who you are, and I'm not here to make trouble with you. Actually, I'm here to get your help."

That got a snort, but Desmond kept his composer well, acting like they were having a friendly conversation. "Don't know what use I'd be. Like I said, I'm just a bartender, but hell, I'll bite. What could you possibly need from me?"

Laying both arms on the bar, Fury met his eyes. "I assume you've heard of SHIELD?" The kid nodded. "Good, because that's who you would be helping. When you get off tonight, one of my guys will bring you in and everything will be explained. To many eyes and ears out here in the open if you know what I mean."

A small nod. "Look, I'll hear you out, but if it's something I don't like, or not willing to do, I want your word I can still walk away. No promises until I know exactly what you want."

He would agree to that. "Fine, but you are going to be watched. If you try to run, I will have you brought in without your permission. Do you understand that?"

**Hello to all! This is an attempt at an Assassin's Creed/Devil May Cry/Avengers crossover. This chapter is just to get the ball rolling. It's a request from Darkmystery1, and I am so sorry it's taken me so long to get this up for you. Merry Christmas to all!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello once more! Chapter two is here, and now that the crazy holidays are over, maybe I might find more time to devote to my stories. If some of the characters are OOC I will apologize ahead of time. Again, been really crazy here in my nut house! So onward!**

Dante shook his head in disbelief in what he had just heard. Morrison leaned back in his chair, eyes forward, just watching. "There's not a chance in Hell that could happen, right?" The younger man grabbed his gun holster from the counter, and slipped his arms into the openings. "Mundus was put down, and locked away. What does this group, this Hydra, have to bring him back now?"

Morrison shrugged. "I don't know, Dante, but whatever they're planning, you know it can't be good. They also have help."

"Help? Help as in who?" There was only a few people in the world, and he could count on one hand how many that was, that had knowledge on how to release the demon from his cage.

"Vergil."

That was a name that caused his blood to run cold, and his hands to still on the various buckles of the holster. His brother, twin brother, was going to help them. Nothing in that was going to end well for any of the people involved. Mundus was not one to be controlled and neither was Vergil. Either they had something on him, or there was a shit ton of money greasing his pale palm.

So looking at the man who brought him work, and information, Dante sighed once more, letting his head fall. "Tell me everything you know. I have to figure out what they're planning and stop this before it gets to the point of no return." And if they managed to release that demon… Well, he didn't want to think about that. There wasn't a chance he was going to let that happen.

_A few hours later_

"Your brother is a fool, Dante." Trish checked the edge of her blade before sliding it home in its sheath. "Why would he do something like that?" Her crystalline blue eye met his, and there was something there that he could only call fear.

Trish feared Mundus. And there was a good reason. The demon had created her from the image of Dante's dead mother to lure him to his death, but Trish knew right from wrong and in the end had decided to help Dante stop Mundus instead of allowing him to destroy everything. From there they had become slight partners, helping each other when the job required more than what either can handle.

"I don't know, but I aim to find out. This is something I though he would never attempt. There is no controlling Mundus, and we all know this." That was stating the obvious. Vergil was an idiot of epic proportions for what he was undertaking, but that's what happens when one brother is completely evil, and the other tried to hide what he was.

Dante had always wondered what it would have been like to be normal. To not be half demon/half human. To be a normal person, with a normal family, in a normal town. He and Vergil could have grown up together, and not hate one another. Maybe gone to school, had double dates, or hell, just talked. But that was a pipe dream more now than ever. Vergil was on the complete opposite end of the spectrum that him, and there was nothing in the world that could change that now.

So the two of them gathered their things in haste to find out anything they could.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

After the bar had been wiped down for what had to be the millionth time that night, the liquor restocked, glasses hung up on the racks and stacked neatly behind the mahogany bar, Desmond knew he was out of reasons to stay. Fury had told him there was no way from him to run, but what the man didn't know was the ex-assassin knew every back way out of the bar and had enough contingency plans to escape detection. Just in case his father, or one of his assassin lackeys got a lucky break and found him when he was at work.

After collecting the tips for the night, close to two hundred dollars and his check, Desmond grabbed his bag from the back room, and before anyone was the wiser, opened the hatch to the sewer. The building that housed the bar was old, like turn of the century old. It had passages that no one knew about, except him from his exploring of the old structure.

Wrinkling his nose from the smell of the stale air and stagnant water, the brunette made his way down the aging pipe, ducking in a few places to dodge braining himself, flashlight securely in his hand. The exit would take him out several blocks north of the bar, then from there it was a hop, skip and a jump to the nearest subway station, then out of the damn city before anyone was the wiser. There was a place about an hour outside of the city that would cash his check, and put him on the run once more. There wasn't a chance in hell that he was going to work for anyone attached to the government. Yeah, not going to happen.

The sounds of the city could be heard above him as he dodged a particularly questionable piece of, well, something at the bottom of the culvert pipe he was in. It could have been a body, big enough, or it could have been just a large collection of trash. He wasn't about to stop and find out. "Ugh, I should have taken to the roof." Desmond grumbled to himself and gagged as he passed another small connecter pipe. The smell alone was almost enough to make him run back in the direction he came, but the government was standing back there, and that was somewhere he did want to be.

Twenty minutes later, after taking a wrong turn, Desmond finally emerged from the pipe where he wanted to be, taking in a large lungful of fresh, but not to fresh, air. It was still New York after all. If the smell didn't get you at times, the smog would. A thousand plus cars running at all ends of the day, up and down the island. Yeah, there was more pollution on Manhattan than where he was born.

"You know, if you're going to run, make sure it's a different path, and not the sewers. That's a given."

The hackles came up, and the blade was pulled as the bartender turned, knife at ready. A man stood there, arms crossed over his chest, lips pulled into a frown. "Who the hell are you?" Desmond growled, grip tightening on the small hunting blade in his off hand. It wasn't the most comfortable grip, but at least he knew he would be fine in a fight. The flashlight was still in his primary hand, and with his knowledge of hand to hand combat, he could wield both.

The guy pushed off the wall lazily. "Didn't Fury tell you to stay put and not run?"

Taking a step back, he knew there was a chance he could outrun the guy if he could catch him off-guard. "Yeah, and I'm not one to listen too well. If Fury knows my dad, and I'm pretty sure he does, then he would know that already."

"Look kid…" But Desmond cut him off.

"I'm not a kid, asshole, and you couldn't be no more than a few years older than me. So let's knock off the buddy routine and tell me why you're really here." He wasn't about to deal with this shit when his chance at freedom was only a few blocks away. A contingency plan was forming in his head. He knew the subway routes, and the times. The way the people flowed in and out of the platform he was wanting. It was one he frequented often. Just another minute.

That actually got a smirk from the man in front of him. "I feel too damn old half the time, but you're right, I'm not much older than you, but I'm pretty sure in an all-out fight I can kick your scrawny ass up and down this island. So don't make me. I don't want you to look bad."

A snort came from Desmond. "Whatever. Look, I don't want anything to do with Fury or SHIELD, or the assassins for that matter. If Fury knows where I'm at, then it's a pretty safe bet that the assassins won't be that far behind. I'm not about to let that dick throw damn near ten years of hiding out the window for something I ran from. I don't want to be an assassin. I don't want anything to do with them, and I don't want anything to do with what's cooking in Fury's head. Now, if you'll excuse me." And chucked the flashlight, distracting the idiot.

Turning swiftly on light feet, Desmond ran like he hadn't in years. It wasn't like he was out of shape, he exercised on a regular basis, but it was free running he was out of practice with. So up the edge of the canal, the ex-assassin grabbed the edge, throwing himself onto the bank. Heavy footfalls could be heard behind him, but he paid no mind. There was not a chance in hell that he was going to let himself be caught.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

"What do you mean the kid got away?"

Tony Stark looked at the director of SHEILD with a raised brow. There had been talk about finding a suitable candidate for the venture into the Animus, but now to find out the guy that he had found had gotten away. That was actually laughable.

"Well find him. That way I can kill him." Fury was in prime fighting mood, making Tony's night even more. When Fury turned and looked at him, the man raised a finger. "So help me, Stark, you make any quip about this, and I will bury you under so much red tape, you won't be able to go anywhere without a cop issuing you a ticket for something. You won't be able to sneeze without an agent being there. Do you understand me?"

Grinning, Tony flopped down on his sofa. "Hey, I wasn't going to say a word. So you lost someone. Not the first time, right?"

"So help me." The darker man growled, making Tony grin wider.

"Want me to do a sweep of the city and see what I can find? I'm pretty sure I'm faster than anyone out there." And he knew that for a fact.

"Barton could use backup. I have him searching for him now." And with that, Fury walked from the penthouse, and disappeared into the waiting elevator.

Getting to his feet once more, Tony walked towards the door to the balcony. "Hey Jarvis, how's the Mach five?" He grabbed the earpiece off the counter as he walked past the bar.

"_**Power has been restored to the main thrusters, but only seventy-eight percent in combat effectiveness, sir. There are still fluxuations in the reactor. Might I suggest taking the Mach four if you are just going for a nightly fly? All systems are fully functional." **_

"Naw, I need to see how bad the lag is in the thrusters. It was horrid the last time I took it out a few nights ago. Got to see what I need to do to get it to a hundred percent." The suit had been giving him fits since he fixed it after the removal of the arch reactor in his chest. The suit now had its own power supply, but for some reason it wasn't working the way he had hoped.

"_**Then might I suggest a low fly by on a closed course. That way if something was to happen, then you would be able to abandon the suit with little worry to your own health, sir. I hate to hear you het yelled at once more by Ms. Potts for being reckless." **_

Stepping onto the platform, Tony triggered the process in allowing merger with the Iron Man suit. Metal arches moved around him, placing the various pieces on his limbs and chest. They began to lock down, and he could hear the hum of the suit as it came to life around him. The last part was the face mask, his HUD controls, and Jarvis in his ear.

"Systems check, Jarvis. What are we looking at?" Tony took a step forward, and felt a few of the servos in the right leg were a bit sluggish. That would have to be looked at in the morning.

"_**Right thruster at ninety-one percent. Left thruster at ninety-seven. Combat missiles offline do to power conservation, but pulse thrusters are operational. Let us hope that you do not have to fight tonight." **_

Chuckling, Tony grinned. "The only thing I might get into a fight with is a rogue rat from the sewers. How's communications?"

"_**Functioning as it should. Flight check complete. You are ready at any time, sir." **_

So with that being said, he took off into the night sky. He may have been Iron Man for a few years now, but it was still surreal to fly among the clouds with nothing to hold him down. The only fear sometimes was running out of power, or something breaking. But that wasn't going to happen tonight. A simple fly around the city at roof level, testing the systems, working a few bugs out as he went along, and enjoying a nice peaceful flight. It was a good night.

That was until Hawkeye's signature came up on the screen, showing him running. Opening communications, Tony quipped. "Out for a late night run?"

'_Something like that. Guess you know about Fury's runaway project?'_ The archer sounded a little out of breath.

"Yeah, and man was he pissed. Guess you found him?" Turning in that direction, Tony knew he could at least test maneuverability that way.

'_Yeah, and this guy is fast. Can you intervene? I am not about to chase him all over this city. Been running for seven blocks now, and he's doing moves that would give Spiderman a run for his money. He has to be part monkey._'

"I got him. Give me a description and I'll grab him." Moving in lower, he felt the lower thrusters cut for a millisecond before resuming full function. Well, as full as they were.

"_**Sir, I've detecting a spike in primary power. Shall I run diagnostic?"**_

"I need to know everything, Jarvis." Tony wasn't about to waste this opportunity. It was chance to know what was going on. It was easier to know what was happening when the suit ran off the same power that kept the shrapnel away from his heart, but with that removed, it became a whole different ballgame when powering the suit. The circuits had been a bit touch and go, taking months to get the system just right. Starting over was the hardest part.

"_**Indeed sir. Running full system scan now."**_

Tony came down within twenty feet from the ground as Barton told him who to look out for. White hoodie, blue jeans, crazy ninja moves. That described a few dozen guys in New York alone, but there was only one guy that came up on his radar, running like someone had lit his ass on fire.

"Got him." And swooped in from the grab.

The guy leapt up onto a dumpster, jumped to the right, his foot pushing off the brick wall, propelling him over an eight foot chain link fence. But his sneakers didn't touch the ground, because Tony grabbed him just as he cleared the top.

"What the fuck?" The guy cried out as they sailed into the night sky. "Ah shit! Please don't drop me!" His hands grabbed at the metal ones above him.

"Calm down. I've near dropped anyone. Well, there was that one time, but he lived." Tony laughed as the kid's heart rate accelerated. "Now I'm going to take you back to Barton, and you're going to be a good little boy. Don't make me snatch you up again."

With a dejected sigh, the kid nodded. "Fine, just put me back down on solid ground."

So that's what he did. Turning in mid-flight, Tony found Barton leaned up against a building, breathing nearly back to normal. Dropping the kid off, Barton looked over at him. "Thanks for the save, but you might want to get out of here before the tourists begin to swarm."

Looking over his shoulder, he saw a few cars beginning to slow, and several more on foot beginning to pull out phones to snap a picture of the famous Iron Man. "I think you might be right. Drinks tomorrow?"

"Sure." Barton smirked as he grabbed ahold of the kid's arm. "As for you…"

"Yeah sure, I get it." And under his breath, he heard the words 'jerkwad' and 'jackass'.

Tony didn't stick around for the rest as he saw the black SUV come around the corner. He'd see the kid later since everything was set up in Stark Towers. So taking back to the sky, he watched the readouts of what Jarvis had been finding. Many of the servos were sticking, and power was spiking. Looked like it was back to the drawing board in the morning to find another solution to his never-ending problems. Pepper was going to chew him a new ass for more time spent on the suit.


	3. Chapter 3

Desmond shot the camera in the small room a glare before plopping down in the chair. Fury groaned in annoyance at the arrogance the boy was showing to them at that moment. William shook his head. "I see the years on his own has not diminished his attitude towards authority."

"I bet it's probably worse now since the last time you saw him." Fury turned from the monitor before he put his fist through the thin glass. The boy had caused two of the Avengers to hunt him down, and almost gave one the slip. The boy had better be worth the trouble, and be able to do what was needed to be done. "You had better be right about him being able to access the memories. If not, well, let's just say we are out of options."

The duo walked from the room, the echoes of boots rang off the metal plates beneath them. Both men were lost in thought, both concerning the upcoming talk with the younger Miles. Fury knew Desmond, for all his attitude and rigid upbringing, didn't strike him as a fighter. A scrapper maybe, but only backed into a corner. He could have tried to fight Barton at the end of that tunnel, but chose to run. To escape and disappear once more.

As they approached the door to the room that held Desmond, William cleared his throat. "Nick, I will wait out here. The last time my son and I were in the same room, a few punches were thrown, and that was the night he ran. So, for the sake of peace, and trying to get him to help willingly, I'll wait out here."

Fury could understand that. They both wanted Desmond to help under his own free will, but if it came down to it, he would make the boy do it. To protect the lives of many, he was willing to sacrifice one. So with a curt nod, the Director walked into the room.

Desmond glared at him as the door closed behind him. "Well, you caught me. Now what did you what from me?"

Pulling out a chair, he took a seat, getting comfortable in the chair. "Like I told you at the bar, your help."

Snorting, Desmond leaned forward until his elbows rested on his bent legs, hands hanging between them. "Alright, let's hear it. What do you need from a bartender? Mix you a few drinks for friends? Tell you a few good recipes for cocktails? That's about all the help I can give you."

Fury could damn near feel the hatred radiating from the kid that sat in front of him. At least he knew where the hostility was coming from. He may have been friends with William Miles, and they had done many missions together in their youth, but the man could try the patience of a saint at times. The man was also hard-headed and stubborn. It seemed his son was the same way.

"Look, I can't give you all the details because some of it escapes me. Stark can tell you more, but I want you to go into this with an open mind. Your work would help save the world." And with that line got peals of laughter to come from Desmond.

"Oh!" He laughed harder. "Oh that is rich! You think I can help you save the world! The top secret spy organization needs a bartender to save the world." Then the laughter stopped and a seriously bored expression overtook his tanned features. "Now tell me the truth. What the hell do you want with me?"

One to not mince words, Fury replied. "For you to help save the world."

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

"What do you mean the subject is gone?" Doctor Warren Vidic looked up from the computer screen, forehead creased in a perpetual scowl.

The man in front of him nodded before clearing his throat, a clear sign of nervousness in his posture. "The subject entered his place of work at the time you spoke of, but never came out. I sent an operative in, but there was no sign of him. It was as if he had vanished."

Cursing under his breath, Vidic stood and looked out at the New York skyline. "I want him found, no matter the cost. Too much is at stake for him to slip through our fingers. Too much time has been invested in finding him. Now get out there and I don't care if you have to turn this damned city on its head, find Desmond Miles at all costs."

Footfalls echoes off the floor as the guard scurried out of the office. Letting out a sigh, Vidic knew it was not going to be easy to find Miles if he did not wish it. It had taken nearly four years to track him to his point, and time was running out. The map to the remaining artifacts had only shone itself to one man, and he had been dead for nearly a thousand years.

Growling in frustration, the scientist turned from the glowing lights of the outside, deciding to focus on the task at hand.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Desmond knew what he was hearing was the biggest load of horse shit he had ever heard in his life, but he would play along. For now. Well, until he was able to figure out a way to remove himself from the picture once more. There were many routes out of the city, and from many trial and errors, he had figured out a few good ones to use. All he had to do was get back to his place, grab his bug out bag that held another fake identification, cash, and a few changes of clothes. California was looking really good.

"Are you even listening to me?" Fury asked, and Desmond could hear the anger in his voice.

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. "You need something from me. Well, not me, but a memory. Something one of my ancestors saw, or had. Don't know how you plan on doing that, but I think I want off the crazy train now." Standing, the bartender headed for the door. He was so done with the bullshit.

"What if I can prove to you what I'm saying is true? What if I show you?"

His hand stilled on the handle. "Why do you need this so damn bad? Why do you need me so damn bad?"

"Because you're the last living male descendant. You're the only one that can do this." The chair legs scrapped the ground telling Desmond that Fury had stood behind him. "If there was any other way believe me, I would have taken it. So far you have proven more than a handful, and I have a feeling you're still trying to figure out a way to get out of here. You can forget that. This building has its own security grid, laser turrets, and an AI that keeps everything in line. You're not going anywhere unless I say it's alright."

Silence settled over the room as Desmond took it all in. There was not chance for escape. No way to get away, and so he was effectively under this man's control. Just like when he was on the Farm, and that sent his blood boiling in his veins. A vow was made to himself nearly ten years ago, to never be controlled once more, had been taken from him in a night. He was a prisoner, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

So, hanging his head, Desmond knew defeat. "Show me what I have to do."

**Hey! Sorry for the wait! OMG! My job is literally trying to kill me. I have been working nearly an hour longer every night, then the half hour drive back home leaves little time to finish anything. But I know this is short, but mainly a filler. The cooler things will be coming up, so don't worry. And I promise I won't take so long this time. See ya!**


End file.
